


before they were mothers

by livethekind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Post-Scratch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livethekind/pseuds/livethekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as sentimentality could do for a person, it wasn’t right -- the timing was wrong for soft words and interesting questions. There was so much they could have done. . . </p>
<p>( before they had been mothers, they had been the most devoted of friends. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	before they were mothers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twist/gifts).



> I took some liberties with headcanon in this fanfiction. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. Written for the first prompt: two ladies who love their witty banter in the midst of a revolution.

The meeting was boring; long, whispered talks that consisted primarily of _what should we do?_ and _how can we do it?_ thrown back and forth across the table. Rose knows that she should be paying attention, but the faces and names are unfamiliar to her. So instead she watches the ringleader: a slim woman, greying hair and glasses as big as at least half of her face shining in the dim light. Despite her age, her eyes were sharp, and green; two small buckteeth protruded over her lower lip, but she spoke as if she didn’t even notice they were there.

“Miss Lalonde?” The woman spoke sharply, and it took Rose a minute to realize that she was being called upon.

“Yes?”

The old woman settled, hands planted on the table. It occurred to Rose that she had not seen the lady sitting for the duration of the meeting; she wondered if her old limbs were simply that strong, or if she were secretly floating. Of course, she dismissed the idea completely after only a passing thought. “I was wondering what you opinion was? You’ve been so quiet today. Usually you’re more talkative.”

“Honestly, I think the optimal solution would be to bring the conflict directly to her. There’s no sense in handling this clandestinely.” Rose stood, mimicking the old woman’s posture almost exactly. “Has anyone ever tried to stand against her? For all we know, Madame English, you ran away.”

The murmurs in the room were unstoppable; people up and down the long, shadowy table threw up their hands, leaned to their neighbors, and even resorted to reaching across the table to converse with strangers. Jade only smiled -- bright. Rose wondered if she had heard this question before, and then decided against it. From the shocked and appalled faces in the room, it seemed that this was entirely unprecedented. But Jade didn’t seem to hold any malice at the moment, which she found extremely curious. Was there a reason for that? Or was this girl simply out of her mind with optimism?

“Of course I ran away. How else was I supposed to do all this?”

“You could have killed her then and there, made a spectacle of it. Saved all of us the trouble of having to jump through her convoluted hoops now.” More murmurs; an outraged cry from one of the older guests. Rose herself appeared completely calm -- honestly, she didn’t even like the idea very much. It was just a guess, a jump in the direction that she wanted to take her plans. And she wanted to see how the old woman would respond.

“Miss Lalonde, would you really want to kill your own mother? Even if you hated her, and wanted to run away? Even if your brother loved her?”

“If she was the Batterwitch, then I don’t really think there’s another choice in this example.”

The old woman shook her head, and for a minute, Rose thought she spied a trace of pity. But it was gone, the sad look replaced with a neutral smile, and no one in the room except for Rose was the wiser as to what had just happened.

“Then I’m sorry, Miss Lalonde, that you’ve never had one. That’s very sad. Mothers are intolerable, evil occasionally -- and I distanced myself from mine as far as someone could. But killing her -- myself,” she added as an afterthought, “that’s insane.”

With no more responses, Jade left the room, leaving Rose staring at the table in confusion, wondering what sort of person would hesitate to kill even the most vile of monsters.

\--

She attended Jade’s lectures insistently after that -- Jade was frequently called upon to talk at great schools and universities about economics, the ability to monopolize the market. Jade, of course, took every opportunity she could to speak about a subject that was dear to her heart. Even though she was by trade a scientist, Rose could sense that she just liked _people_ , and causes that she believed in. It was as if there were no looming sense of bankruptcy hanging over her head; Jade English spoke as if everything would be right in the world, face practically shining with enthusiasm. Students would always swarm up to her after her talks, asking her questions, wanting her signature on her numerous books, papers, dissertations. Once, Rose thought it might be interesting to go up to her, see what she would do -- but as the swarm of backpack-carrying, emerging scientists swarmed down upon the old woman, she thought the better of it, and left out the back.

But it didn’t seem that Jade was without her share of interest; Rose spotted her at book signings -- small, intimate affairs in shaded bookshops, where someone could go unnoticed behind the stacks of forgotten literature for hours. She spotted her again during an interview with a newspaper. The old woman was sitting across the street from the newspaper’s office, reading a book, completely uninvited. With a little more staring, Rose made out that it was a physics book -- typical, she thought. Jade would be the person who brought work to somewhere relaxing. Then again, from what she’d seen, Jade was also the person who thought that work was an extension of fun.

So after she was finished with her printed pleasantries, Rose made her way to the woman, sitting down on the bench next to her. It wasn’t strange to see Jade in New York -- after all, a woman attempting to overthrow an international corporation had to make herself public, and frequently. But what did surprise Rose was the lack of security; for someone who was making herself a public target, Jade seemed not to care about her own safety at all.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, being this honest.” Jade didn’t even look up from her book at the sudden conversation, instead turning a page with a look of pure boredom. “It’s insane, you know. I’ve caught you spying on me at least a dozen times, without you once asking me a question or demanding answers for my rude behavior. I’m not sure if it’s a game to you, your safety, but following me around compromises both your position and my own secrecy. And while you may be widely known as a competitor of the company we have previously discussed, it is in my benefit to be secretive until the moment arrives when I can shed my discretion and strike.”

Jade finally put the book down; she stared at the cover intently, biting her lower lip. Rose recognized it as a sign of thought -- she waited for an answer, but impatiently; her own body was tense, ready to combat Jade. But the response she received wasn’t anything that she expected.

“You’re right.”

“...Pardon?”

“You’re right. It wasn’t a very good plan. I know that I’m a target, but I wanted to see what sort of world I’m leaving this mission to. To see if it’s a good idea to keep going.” Jade leaned back on the bench, staring up at the cloudy sky. “I’m old, Miss Lalonde. I know she has plans for me. I hope I live long enough to see my Grandson’s fifth birthday.”

Rose was taken aback. “Of course you will. Surely she knows that you’re well protected -- you have assets, a child, obviously a network of communication--”

“And I’m an old lady who can’t see very well and forgets where she put her rifle! Did you forget about that part?”

“Well, no, I just assumed that someone heading the English Corporation would be a little bit less--”

“Senile?” Jade turned her head to peer at Rose, waiting for an answer. Thankfully, Rose was smart enough to sense a challenge when she saw one, and said nothing. “Optimistic? You know, some people have said I’m a witch.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Rose was starting to believe it herself, the way the old woman could show up in the middle of nowhere, where she wasn’t expected in the slightest. Thinking back on the floating from the meeting weeks ago, she wondered if it wasn’t completely correct. “Tell me: are you dabbling in the arcane magics, Madame English? Should I include you as a main character in my next novel?”

“No, that’s not necessary!” But Jade laughed in spite of herself, and suddenly all Rose could imagine was how beautiful she must have been in her younger years, all smiles and awkward angles. The older woman adjusted her spectacles, smiling. “I never asked for your first name. I only read the reports. That’s pretty rude of me, isn’t it? My name is Jade, it’s nice to meet you properly.”

“Rose. Rose Lalonde, it’s an honor to meet you as well.” They shook hands, awkward as it seemed. Seconds passed as they watched each other in silence -- but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rose thought it was strange, how young this woman seemed. She had to be old, but it didn’t seem to bother her -- laugh lines and wrinkles adorned her face, but she wore them as if they were a badge of something remarkable. If it had been another time (another world, another universe perhaps), she might have reached up to smooth out Jade’s tangled hair, or to run a thumb across her cheek. They had only talked in meetings, or seen each other in clandestine exchanges where neither was willing to give up ground. There was so much they could have done. . . 

But she blinked, and the moment was gone; they were on a bench in a city, surrounded by millions who followed a woman they both detested. As much as sentimentality could do for a person, it wasn’t right -- the timing was wrong for soft words and interesting questions. She almost thought about leaving, but it seemed rude to abandon the woman who had taken such an interest in her. Perhaps some excuse would be in order, something that she had to attend to--

“Are we friends?” The question cut through her reverie. A brief glance told her that Jade had resumed peering at her through those oversized spectacles.

“Pardon?”

“Friends! Do you want to be friends? I think we could both use one at this point. What do you say?” Jade stretched her hand out to the other woman.

Rose smiled.

“Of course. There’s no other word for it, I’d imagine.”

They shook. A moment passed again, shorter this time. This time, Jade was the one to look away; she stared down at her physics book, fingers tapping the cover. But before Rose could ask what was bothering her, she looked up and smiled.

“I hope we’ll be friends for a long time to come. I think we’d be good for each other.”

Then, without another word, Jade left.


End file.
